


A Name That Has Been Retained

by Arcanista



Series: Holding Pattern [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon Dialogue, Departure from Genocide Route, Gen, Genocide Route, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcanista/pseuds/Arcanista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since when were you the one in control?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "... and all the pieces matter."

Feels really... really awkward standing in elevator with the stupid jerk flower. Doesn't really want to talk to him at all. Flower doesn't shut up. Ever. Tries not to listen, focus on song playing in the elevator instead. But that just gives them a headache. Worth it.

Little circle of bullets flies out of the flower's face and fires at the speaker. They jump and look up as the flower doesn't stop until it's all just mangled and no sound at all coming out anymore.

They frown at him. "Was listening to that."

Flower-head leans back. "No, you weren't."

Well, _wasn't_ , but close enough. Listening more than to the flower. "Coulda been. Don't really care what a flower says."

"I have a _name_ , you know." Flower folds his leaves up. Really good impression of crossed arms, actually. Still being a big sulky baby.

Thinks about trying to hit the flower again. Decides not to try. "Great," they say. "Wanna prize?"

Flower goes quiet. "Well, if you're offering..." Then he laughs. "Well, I still wouldn't want any lousy prize you were offering!"

Elevator finally stops. They pull out the directions and squint at them, walking onto the ground. Flower follows behind, reading over their shoulder.

"Wait, you're going _that_ way?" Flower shakes his head, petals batting on their arm. Think about pulling those petals off. Think about doing it good and slow and showing him each one before crumpling them up. Just glares. "Ugh, do I need to do _everything_ for you? If you go through the city, you're gonna get lost, and you're gonna get _caught_ because people are gonna be looking."

Kinda wouldn't mind getting caught. Frowns at themself. No, that would be bad. That would be keeping being bad. "What do _you_ care?" Easier question. "Not a big joke, getting caught?"

"Oh, it'd be hilarious," says the flower, inching ahead of them. "But not _half_ as funny as the look on your idiot face as you try and figure out what I'm up to. And you can't! You can't! Because you're the stupidest person I ever met!"

Rolls their eyes at him. "Not very creative. So spill. Go which way?" Might as well take whatever help's there. Even if it's from a dumb butt of a flower.

Flower tosses his head. "Why should I waste being creative on _you_? Anyway, don't take the elevator in the hotel up ahead, just go out the back door. The Core's that way. Hop the elevator right in the front. If it's locked down or something, whatever, I can _make_ it work." Flower turns around, eyeballs the elevator they just got off. Vines burst up out of the ground, pulling the doors all shut, holding them tight. "That'll slow 'em down behind us. C'mon, dummy." He wobbles his way through the ground.

Watches the vines for a couple seconds as the flower moves away, but the vines stay put. Not sure how to ask. "Vines... part of you?" Turns and catches up with him.

"Uh, _duh_."

They climb up the stairs behind the flower. "It hurt? Leaving them there?"

Flower stops short and turns around. Face turns... looks kinda like theirs, maybe. Voice goes all high and mean. "'It hurt? Leaving them there?' Of _course_ it does, you moron. What do you care?"

Looks down at their hands. Squeezes them into fists, relaxes them. Does that a couple times. "Just wondering why. Probably other ways to break the door."

Get glared at super hard. He turns around and pushes forward again. "Maybe I don't _mind_ doing something that hurts. I don't _get_ to feel much." Goes faster. "Hurry _up_!"

But they stay put and look at their hands a little more. Thinks of fist crunching into nose, thinks of getting yelled at, no school for a full week that time. Doesn't remember what she yelled at them. Doesn't really want to. Doesn't remember who they hit. Doesn't really care. But-- "Makes sense," they say, and catch up to the flower. But more words come without thinking. "Doesn't gotta stay like that." Might even be true.

"What do _you_ know?" Flower stops in front of big tall building. " _You've_ got a soul, a big fat juicy soul. Look, just go straight out the back door, don't stop. And across the bridge after. I'll meet you on the other side."

* * *

The worst part is that it's a downright  _simple_ spell. No major rewrites to anything big which, well, good. There are things he's good at and there's things he's qualified to do, and rewriting a human soul by hand isn't exactly either of them.

Then again, Sans figures there's probably literally nobody actually qualified to do that. The last file he needs finally extracts out of the data off the kid's soul, so he opens it and starts searching for the stuff he needs to change.

The other worst part is that there's not exactly going to be a way to tell if this works. He's not restoring anything that's been deleted but is still kicking around in the soul or anything, just triggering instructions to start restoring what's still kicking around in the soul's trashbin. Which is a subtle difference, to be sure, but putting stuff back where it belongs is a lot more complex.

He finishes charting out the spell, and it looks deceptively trivial. Patience to hold everything still and justice to make the changes and that wisp of integrity to seal them all in so they don't come undone. He goes over it in full from the paper before he starts mentally going over what he'll need to do to manipulate power in just the right way. The fingers of his left hand twitch as he takes it all in, prepares himself for what he'll need to do.

The trick of course is, when it comes to magic, he's not exactly great with subtle displays. Send something flying across a room, move from place to place in a second, the countless bone tricks he learned way too long ago with Papyrus, sure, all of that's if not _easy_ then something he can do without issue. None of it comes even close to that sort of tiny, tiny work needed to get this soul up and running properly.

Which is not to say he can't do it. Not at all. He just needs to be a little more... determined. Damn it. He goes over Alphys' formula again, and the toxicity range comes out exactly the same as the first time. It's a disturbingly small quantity that could potentially start turning him into goo here instead of just _better_. Sans ignores the top end of the range; the last thing he wants to do is push into areas that might possibly be safe but could also not be.

He does like he said and quarters the minimum. It's tiny. Too tiny to do anything at all? It had better still be enough. He looks again to see if Alphys has sent any message to him. She hasn't. Of course she hasn't. Sans gets up and goes to the storage room she directed him to.

Sans fumbles the door's access code the first time he tries to punch it in. He double checks it and goes more carefully the second time. A cheery green light over the lock blinks, accompanied by a clicking sound. Sans steps inside.

Nothing is particularly well-secured _inside_ the storage room, and why would it be? Only one person has access to this place. Only one person has been here in years. And somehow Sans doubts Alphys comes in here much at all. Sealed test tubes are all neatly arrayed in racks, and if she was in here very often, there's no way it would be this organized.

He picks up one tube and shakes it gently. Might as well be water inside, just a little bit more viscous. Not much more. Thick as spit, maybe. Not that he can test that one very easily. Sans puts it back.

He's stalling. That's fine, that's what he does. But this is a bad time for that. Two questions, then: how to precisely measure out the quantity he needs, and a delivery method. Alphys was using injections as far as he knows, but that's straight out for him. The stuff's notoriously persistent though, so it should be fine if he takes it another way. He sighs and pulls a fresh bottle of ketchup out of his pocket. That settles that. Now, just to find _something_ that measures itty bitty droplets. Probably there's a syringe small enough kicking around here somewhere. Sans starts going through drawers.

It takes him way too long, but he finds a syringe with small enough graduations marked out on it. That makes him feel a little bit better, that it might be at all _feasible_ to only take such a small dosage of this stuff.

Sans uncaps the ketchup. Almost as an afterthought, he grabs a pair of rubber gloves. They fit loosely over his fingerbones but he pulls them tight and knots them at the wrists. Would they even help if he spilled? Nope, nope, he's not gonna think about that one. He takes up a vial and unseals it, then lowers the tip of the syringe into it. Careful, careful, that much and exactly no more. He stops and holds the syringe out at arm's length while he caps the vial. Sets it aside so he can mark down which he used, as if Alphys is even keeping that close attention to the stocks.

He holds up the syringe, staring at the meniscus of the liquid, reading the measurement three times over. Close enough. He brings the ketchup bottle close, lowering the tip of the syringe just barely into the neck.

_Still have time to decide to do something else._ He shuts his sockets and presses down on the plunger. Opens them and pulls the syringe away. He tosses it and the gloves into the appropriate bucket and caps the bottle of ketchup. Gives it a good, heavy shake. Then he finds a piece of paper and writes down exactly how much is gone from this tube, then tapes it to the outside of the glass.

Nothing to do but get going. Sans pockets the bottle of ketchup and shortcuts to the elevator. He pulls out his phone and the second service kicks back in, he texts to Alphys: _no word from you and im done here so im heading to a chokepoint. text me if you catch up with them. you get through to the king?_ As an afterthought, he kicks his phone onto vibrate.

The lab upstairs is deserted anyway. Where to wait, where to wait. Then it hits him that he knows a good, quiet spot, the last possible place where he could really guarantee catching the kid. He takes another step, shortcutting to a lonely hall in the king's... castle, house, whatever. Sans finds a pillar and leans against it.

His phone buzzes with an incoming text and he just sighs when he reads it. His hand drops, phone dangling loosely from his fingertips.

_He didnt pick up! i left a message, i left THREE messages, that'll be fine, right?_

No. No, of course it isn't that easy. He wrenches his hand up and starts typing: _keep trying. ill_ \-- he'll what? Go look for the king himself? Work backwards? Stay here and wait? Where even is the king this time of day? Could be the garden, not far ahead. But if he can catch the kid here, there's no reason even to disturb the king. Plus, staying here means he gets to stand around and do nothing. And, wow, does that sound like a good idea right now. It's not like anything's getting past him here. Still... He starts the message over. _keep trying. ill wait right here for now._

* * *

They think about ignoring the flower's directions. But they decide to go along with him all the same. Not sure why, just do. They go into the big building, the hotel, and look around. Nobody looks twice at them. Nobody even looks at the big broken fountain spilling water everywhere. Do their best to act normal. Not sure how to do that but if nobody notices then that counts. Normal. They let the word roll around in their head as they push through the back door of the hotel. Person behind the desk doesn't even look up. Big long bridge next. Kind of scary because it's all dark and there's machines everywhere, but the bridge looks big and wide and safe.

Still, they run across it, fast as they can. Head throbs when they get to the end, looking up at door with spooky lights everywhere. But it's all open. So they just take a big breath and go inside. No one there. They turn around three times. Do see the elevator. Frown. No one here, though. Say something, maybe? Or would that be weird.

"Hah, you should see the look on your face!" Flower pops up out of the ground. "You were-- and then you-- hahaha, that was amazing. If you weren't so _slow_ , I wouldn't have to make my own fun like this while I waited!"

"Shut up," they say, and start mashing the button for the elevator. Bite their lip. "Gonna tell you a story. To keep you shut up. Not gonna interrupt, right? Not a _rude_ flower, yeah?"

Flower's face changes again. "Sure, sure, whatever. Go on. I bet it's some fluffy bunny stuff for babies." Elevator doors open. "The _top_ floor. You _can_ read, right?"

Gets onto the elevator. Has to lean in to read all the numbers, but finds the right one and presses the button. "A true story. Think so, anyway. Don't remember all of it." Steps away from the door, waits for flower to hop on. "Happened before all this. Was driving. In a car. Or, or _she_ was, anyway. Was crying. Not her. Don't remember why. She... wanted to look what was wrong?" They rub their forehead. Should _remember_ this. "Then there was noise, and then everything hurt everywhere. Was crying even harder. Wet all over. Could barely see anything. Tried yelling, 'mom, mom'."

"But nobody came," flower says. Looks like it's looking at the wall. "Yeah, yeah, great story. That it?"

Squeezes hands into fists. Lets go. "No. Woke up later. Hospital. Couldn't move. Cried lots. Found out she died." Not a very good storyteller. Thinks it's okay.

Flower looks real interested in handrails on the elevators. "And then your dad came and picked you up and you had a good cry and he took you to a mountain and tossed you down a hole, the end."

Blinks. "What? No. Don't got a dad. Never needed one." Shrugs. But getting distracted helped. "Was a while getting better. Then, um... her, her sister came. Said be living with her now. Probably said it real mean, too. She always talked mean. Had trouble remembering stuff ever since. Was real bad at school. Got into lots of fights. ... started lots of fights. Got yelled at lots." Takes a big breath. Not even wanting to cry right now. That good? Or bad? "Anyway... anyway, um, forget a lot of this next bit. Was like that for a while. Then, um, real bad grades, real bad fight, she... she took it real bad. Ran away. Remembered the story. Climbed the mountain. Fell. That's it. That's the story. Unless you wanna hear about anything after."

Flower's voice goes high. "Why are you _telling_ me this?" He turns around, inches closer. "It won't make us friends! You _stole_ my friend! I don't care about you at all!"

Elevator stops, doors open. They get off. Small little room, with a bridge. Big open door to the right, dark inside. "Haven't said it to anybody. Figure it would be good to, once, before seeing the king. And you're not gonna get sad, knowing all that. Right? Which way."

"This way." Flower scoots through the door, moving quick. For a flower. Follows behind. Kind of dark inside. Can't see much. "Yeah, it's empty. That dumb rectangle is probably off shooting somewhere else. Come on."

Ask a question they've been meaning to ask for a while. "Why do people like a rectangle?"

"Because people are _really_ stupid," says the flower. "Okay, fine, go on about the next bit. Tell me how you went and stole my friend and turned into a wimp after-- I thought you _got_ it! I _saw_ the look on your face, when I told you what the world's like! You _understood_ me!"

"Kill or be killed..." they say. Stop for a second, sigh, then keep going. "Maybe. Sounded right then. Sounded right hitting things. Was-- was really angry then. Not scared so much. A little bit. Mostly angry. But, didn't... dunno. Didn't feel _good_ doing it. But got a rush. Always got that rush, even before. _Like_ that feeling. But, but, got to that house. There was pie there and a nice big bedroom and, and," feels the next few words out, tries to figure out how to put it. Big breath, reaches and squeezes, like trying to get by a big rock, rolls it out of the way just far enough. "Ruffled my hair." Head hurts all over, squeezes eyes shut. Rock rolls back, leaves them still stuck on the wrong side. Get to the other side of the room and go into a long grey hallway. Follows the flower still. "But... but said there was no going anywhere else, no outside, no nothing. Got... did get scared then. Did get angry. And, and, ended up hitting her. Hitting her really hard. After that... after that, things get foggy."

Only an elevator at the end of the hallways. Flower gets there first, and a vine just bursts up to hit the button. Won't even look at them now. "That old hag had a name too, you know. Hah. Haha, what an idiot. She couldn't even save herself from someone who doesn't know her name. You can't _break_ the rules! If you're not going to kill, you're going to _be_ killed! I guess you made your choice."

Doors open quick. They step inside, flower right behind. Only one button on this elevator. They press it, hand not all that steady. "Don't know names. Nobody's names. Don't hear anything at all where they should be."

Flower laughs, but not their usual laugh. Not sure who or what he's laughing at. "No names! At all! That's the, that's the dumbest thing _ever_! So if I say T̶̷̸̲̅o̶̷̸̲̅r̶̷̸̲̅i̶̷̸̲̅e̶̷̸̲̅l̶̷̸̲̅ or A̶̷̸̲̅s̶̷̸̲̅g̶̷̸̲̅o̶̷̸̲̅r̶̷̸̲̅e̶̷̸̲̅ or F̶̷̸̲̅l̶̷̸̲̅o̶̷̸̲̅w̶̷̸̲̅e̶̷̸̲̅y̶̷̸̲̅ or, or Asriel, or C̶̷̸̲̅h̶̷̸̲̅a̶̷̸̲̅r̶̷̸̲̅a̶̷̸̲̅ or even--"

They turn right to that flower, get all up in his face. " _What did you just say?_ "

"A bunch of names, moron," says the flower. Face gets even sourer than before. "What, that last one, C̶̷̸̲̅h̶̷̸̲̅a̶̷̸̲̅r̶̷̸̲̅a̶̷̸̲̅? That's my _friend_ , you jerk."

Knees go wobbly. Hold onto the handrail tightly. "No," they say. Head spins just a little. Gotta mean something. Gotta mean something. What does it _mean_? "Right before that. A... As-something?"

"Asriel? You heard _Asriel_ , but you didn't hear me or the person you stole from me or the woman you killed or anything like that?" Flower almost leans in, staring.

Closes their eyes. Rubs their face. "Yeah," they say. "Never heard it before, either. Why? Important?" Elevator stops. Hears the doors open. They push away from the wall and leave.

Flower follows off the elevator, stays put right at the edge of the ground. "No. Just go forward from here. No elevators or turns or whatever. Forward. Walk. I'll catch up with you later. _And don't touch my stuff_!" Flower buries itself under the ground, little rumbles following him as the ground settles back into place.

They watch long enough to be sure he isn't coming back, then start walking forward. But... what stuff? Shake their head. Just keep going. Almost there.

* * *

The hall is dead silent around Sans. Every one of his motions, every scratched itch, every subvocalized thought wondering how a skeleton gets itchy without any skin or nerves, every conclusion that it's just magic, they all echo through the hall.

Okay, maybe the thoughts just make symbolic echoes but that's beside the point. Symbols are important too. He checks his phone again, pointlessly. Not a word from Alphys. The kid's too far ahead of them. He can feel it. He looks at the clock instead, waits for every minute to pass by.

Someone coming. Soft, small footsteps, the sound of old rubber on stone. A subtle sound, not one that he'd be able to hear if there were any other sound in the hall. Sans lifts his phone and texts: _hallway before the garden. theyre here. better drop everything and head this way._

He pushes off the pillar and moves to the centre of the hallway, and he waits. Hands at his sides, he waits until he hears feet on stairs, and he sees a small human child emerge. A familiar tangled mop that passes for hair, and an old t-shirt, and a slow, shuffling step. Sans waits.

The kid stops a ways in front of him, swaying on their feet. Their empty hands hang loosely at their sides, fingers curling halfway, then relaxing.

"So you finally made it," Sans says. He presses his hands toward the kid, palms out. "You don't have to do this. C'mon, let's go home or something, we'll get hot dogs on the way. Maybe find a pie that wasn't made in five minutes."

The kid closes their eyes and rubs both their hands over their face. For nearly five entire seconds, Sans believes the kid might break, might be willing to just turn around right here and right now. "Stop saying that," they say. "Maybe don't _have_ to. Decided to, though. Don't... don't try and take that. Gonna fix things."

Sans lowers his left hand and reaches into his pocket with the right. He comes up with an ordinary bottle of ketchup. The lid's been opened once before. He flicks it off easily. It skitters noisily on the ground. Neither he nor the kid are startled by that. "D'you think... the king wants to kill you?" He lifts the bottle halfway.

"Think wanting doesn't got much to do with it," says the kid. They run a hand through their hair. "Don't... _don't_ wanna. But hurt so _many_ people... Kings're wise, right? Heard stories. He'll... he'll know how to make everything better."

Down the hatch. Sans catches the mouth of the bottle between his teeth, and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks. He shoves the empty into a pocket. Doesn't feel any different, yet. "And that bit about killing all the humans. Said it'd be 'good' if that happened?"

The kid turns around slowly, once, facing him again afterward. "Humans... hurt people. Lots. Like hurting people. All the time, pretty much. Why shouldn't monsters win?"

But Sans can see what he needs to do. Real subtle now, without tipping the kid off. Don't let it go to his eye. His left hand lifts. Patience, that stillness, suffuses him and the whole of the kid's patchwork soul spreads out before him. So easy to see, now that it's really in him to look hard. The partial second soul, spread out and sunk in, inextricably twined over and into the kid's. Wrong to even call them separate anymore. Infinity plus infinity is infinity. "So monsters should kill all the humans? Every single one alive deserves it? You've never known one single human who didn't deserve to be killed?"

Kid bites their lower lip. "One. But it happened anyway."

That's a red herring if Sans has ever heard one. He sees what he needs to change. This is going to be visible, probably. Keep talking, keep the kid distracted. His fingers curl inward. "Someone killed them? One human decided to kill this other, this one solitary exception?" His vision flashes amber for a split-second, as he changes here, and here, and here, and-- too many for him to count as he goes. Not breaking the chains, but popping the locks. Another. And another.

The kid looks past him, down at the other end of the hall. "No. Accident. Don't wanna-- stop making this _hard_!"

"Shouldn't it be?" Almost done. They don't seem to have noticed his eye going off yet. "Look, kid... there's making things right and there's making things right. If you knew one human who was all right... can you be sure there aren't any others? Even if you are sure, do you think no monsters are gonna get hurt going up there? We _lost_ the first time. It's why we're down here. And yeah, seven human souls... that's gonna make a lot of difference, especially early on. But all the difference? You can't know that anyone who gets hurt, who dies, is gonna deserve it. You _can't_. And _you don't get to make that call._ That's not something one person gets to decide."

"Bet a king could," mutters the kid. "Why not let him decide?"

And... there. He flips modes once more, draws on integrity to lock his changes in, keep them all from being undone. "A king's still one person. One person under a lot more stresses than almost anyone. Some people might tell you differently, but right here and right now, what I'm gonna tell you is this: no. Not even a king should get to write off a million-- or however many it is-- people's lives as having no value all in one go." This work is still delicate, but less precise, a little extra here or there isn't going to hurt anything. It's all over in a second. Sans lets his hand drop.

The kid looks no different from before. But why would they? Maybe they know he was doing anything. Maybe they don't. Right now, it doesn't matter. They turn around and look back up the hall, then they turn and face him again. Then they sigh, long and slow. "What about for one?"

That, unfortunately, is pretty much exactly within a king's job description. And within one other person's too. And he has a mandate here that he can't be neglecting any longer, much as he wants to. He _could_ stuff the kid in a sack and head home... but that wouldn't be good for either of them. No. He has a job to do.

Ugh. Is this the determination talking? Hell of a drug. With just a little bit more, he could... no. No. Focus on the task at hand. He looks the kid over, long and slow. "You've got too much LOVE in you, kiddo," he says. "I dunno how much of it's your own and how much is... something else. I dunno if there's a difference anymore. Too much LOVE and not enough love. But not none."

The kid closes their eyes. "Not none," they say. "That's... that's why it's hard. Didn't _want_ it to be hard!"

"I know," says Sans. "But it's gotta be hard. Because if it's easy... then I know I can't let you go by. We can still turn around right now, kid. Turn around and go home. I told you that you can stay as long as you like. That hasn't changed."

" _Can't_." The kid's hands ball into fists. "Stop asking. Can't just... can't just ignore everything. Did lots of bad stuff. Can't just _wait_ for something to change. Even... even if that was right, the, the fish lady, everyone else left. They're not gonna wait for things to get better! Shouldn't have to, either!" They rub their face against their hands before lifting their head and saying, "Things don't just get better on their own. Maybe a king can't decide for every human. But a king can decide for one. See what he says. Maybe everything's just fine with him. Just gonna say to go home with you. Would... would like that. Really would. Think he will?"

Sans exhales. And in the end, his job here is what it is, all because of more promises. No more promises. "Kid..."

The kid takes a couple steps forward. "Gonna keep going. Don't... just please. Don't."

"People care about you, kid," says Sans, looking away. Gotta find Alphys. She can't be too far behind. The kid advances one more step, and he doesn't move at all, and then he's gone.

* * *

One second he's there, and the next he's gone. They rub their eyes but it doesn't make anything make any more sense. Doesn't matter. Stop dawdling. They start walking again, trying not to think about the last thing he said. Ugh. Used to know that sort of thing wasn't true. Now... now...

They shake their head and get to the very end of the hall. Three short steps going down, then another long hallway. Feel kind of nervous. That flower hasn't come back yet, and he seems like someone who would. Better keep it in mind.

It's not like the flower could do anything, anyway. He's... well, no. He's probably planning something. Can't lose focus, though. They see a sign on the wall next to a door, and they go right up on tiptoes to squint and read it. Throne room, it says. That's where kings should be. They breathe deep and go inside.

But it's a garden, one with soft green grass and bright yellow flowers and light, real light coming from somewhere high above. Birds are singing somewhere. Someone tall, with big pointy horns stands there, and he's doing something, looking away from the door, humming while he does it. They walk close behind him, and they cough.

"Oh? Is someone there?" he says. His voice is deep and rumbly all the way down to their toes, and they've heard it before. Somewhere-- they don't remember where. "Just a moment! I have almost finished watering these flowers." He bends forward, and they hear the sound of water falling onto petals. Petals... they look around, searching. But no. He turns around. "Here we are! Howdy! How can I..."

They see a tiny crown sitting between his big giant horns. The king. Of course. "Hi," they say to him. They don't know what else to say.

The king backs away, and his watering can drops to the ground. "I so badly want to say 'would you like a cup of tea?' But... you know how it is." He walks away, so he doesn't stand right in that light anymore.

"Yeah..." they say. "I do."

The king looks somewhere else. "Nice day today, huh? Birds are singing, flowers are blooming... perfect weather for a game of catch."

They look down at their own feet, and say, quietly, "You know what I did." When they lift their head, the king nods.

"You know what we must do," he says. He still won't look right at them. That's fair. They don't want to look right at him. "When you are ready, come into the next room." He takes a few steps back, then turns and leaves, faster than they would have thought he could move.

They follow him, walking through the flowers. They check, one last time, to see if any of them have faces, but of course none of them do.

The king is waiting for them. "How tense..." he says, and they think he tries to smile. He's bad at pretending to smile. "Just think of it like... a visit to the dentist." They don't remember ever going to see a dentist. He leads them around the corner, to another door. "Are you ready?" he asks. "If you are not, I understand. I am not ready either." He goes through the door.

Noise coming from behind them, but it's far far away. They can barely hear it. They just need to do this quickly and it won't matter anymore. Everyone... everyone will be ha... maybe everyone will understand. They follow the king quietly.

This room is... strange. It's dark, except for a silvery shine way past the king. Some noise hums, coming from nowhere at all. The king won't face them at all. "This is the barrier. This is what keeps us all trapped underground. If..." He waits, still won't turn around, and says, "If... by any chance you have any unfinished business... please do what you must."

"Won't fight you," they say. "But... if you can use it to... to make people feel better... to make people be better... then, this soul... you should have it."

The king turns around and nods, and they make themself look at his face. Their eyes meet for a second, and they know they've never seen anyone so sad before. They don't know what he sees. They both make themselves smile. "I see," says the king. "This is it, then. Ready?" They shake their head, but they still smile, lips shaking.

The light swirling around them changes, and from it burn strange coloured lights. Is this what souls look like? Is this what their soul will look like? The noise comes closer, sounds like people running hard, all kinds of feet on the floor, until--

"Don't you _dare_!"

"Human! I was worried sick!"

"Oh god there you are, I thought we'd never catch up to you!"

"Sorry, kid."

"What is all of this?" the king asks, peering at everyone in turn. "Why are you all here?"

The instant it feels its best friend begin to move, it strikes. It bats the worthless human's consciousness aside like a cat does a ball of string. Confusion rises up as they fade into the background. _You thought I was gone? Wasn't I the one who implied that? And you believed me? You really_ are _an idiot._ No room now to do anything but move; it can deal with locking that thing away more permanently in due time.

Still too human to take a soul in straight, but its reliable best friend, predictable as clockwork, starts pulling them in while everyone else is distracted. But it takes time to absorb them and absorption of anything changes it on both sides. It's _not_ so human anymore that this will fail. And it's been learning things too, while the host has been needing to waste their time on making some sort of identity for themself.

It dives for its friend, hiding off to the side where no one's thinking of looking. It closes both hands around his stem and hiss into his face, "I'll be taking those." And in that very startlement it's so easy to hijack his absorption of those souls, sending them right where they truly belong.

It's a rush like it's never imagined, electric and fiery and beautiful, all this power coming inwards. It smiles down at its friend, real and true. "Thank you," it says. "For giving me this chance. But I guess I win after all, huh?" No one else matters anymore.

"C̶̷̸̲̅h̶̷̸̲̅a̶̷̸̲̅r̶̷̸̲̅a̶̷̸̲̅?" he says, and his face turns familiar, turns confused. It can only assume he's referring to it. "What are you doing...?"

"Don't worry, Asriel," it says, bringing darkness around it. "I'll protect you."


	2. Supplemental




End file.
